night terrors

the romantization of holding hands

Looking at the street ahead/ i see the life of flashing lights/ the taillights of incomprehension/ of how much i need these nights

my lifeline sits to the left/ one hand on the wheel/ the other intertwined with mine/ whose heart will he steal?

i firmly believe in soulmates/ and that we are/ i firmly believe in elation/ brought to us by our stars

the romanization of holding hands/ seems uncomparable to all of earth/ as do all the limits set/ for the speed we take each curve

dark nights

flowers, bees, trees, water

You are all mine/ the flowers and the bees/ the petals and the stripes/ in the dirt and in the trees

You are all mine/ I’m tired of keeping track/ of everybody who stares/ for now, they face my back

You are all mine/ I need you to reel me in/ to pull me up from the water/ so i can stop drowning

no talking

Dependent I’ve become/ after months and months of talking/ and now all i recieve is silence/ i wish it wasn’t so shocking

Yet i don’t want to move first/ worried of forced conversation/ so i sit in my bedroom/ all my songs, one long duration

So, update. I’m realizing I suck at poems and it’s kind of killing me because nothing seems decent when I write it and all my “decent” ones are just about inanimate objects. What does that say about me? Can I not write? Do I force myself to write too much? Just because I can rhyme doesn’t mean I can just build stanzas that have any depth. Yet, I keep checking my snap and there’s nothing new from anybody and I can only hope that writing passes the time because the night is long. -me, cosmo susie